Father's Day
by yellowlabluvr
Summary: Bobby takes care of the boys for a day. The day from his point of view.


Father's Day

Some days, the life I lived was just too damn hard. I mean, who else had a wall of land-line phones with different labels on it like FBI, CIA, even Homeland Security. Grumbling to himself, he kept looking through a book one of his books on demonology. Someone had called, demanding information quick. They always needed information quick. Life or death. Someone was dying. Always the way it was with these hunters. I rubbed at my eyes and looked down at my empty glass.

"Balls," I said loudly, realizing the bottle was also empty.

I would need to make another booze run soon. Working this job required lots of supplements, mostly in a liquid form. A familiar car rumbled up my drive. It'd been a long time since I'd seen them. The black Impala pulled up and parked without shutting off. John didn't get out. Didn't even look at me. No matter. I didn't do this for him. Dean threw the passenger door open and dragged himself out. Sam pulled his backpack out with him, though it looked heaver than he was. I never had any kids, but if I did, it would be these two. As soon as the boys were clear of the car, John put it in reverse and squealed away. Bastard. Just come by here and drop your kids off, assuming I'll be home. I'm usually home, but that isn't the point.

"Dad's gone off to hunt a werewolf. He said he'll be by to grab us in a couple of days," Dean promptly informed him.

"Your rooms are all ready. You kids eat anything yet?"

"No," Sam said, dragging the bag behind him.

"There's pie in the fridge. I'll find us something to have for lunch. Go throw your crap down."

They ran upstairs quickly, avoiding the piles of books I had. It was almost comforting to hear the two of them running around upstairs. I opened my cupboards and realized I didn't really have any food. Well. Nothing appropriate for anyone their age. I was out of whiskey anyway. They came bumbling down the stairs, nearly knocking each other over. I heard a book fall of one of the stairs, but it didn't worry me. It wasn't like anything had a proper place anyway.

"Come on, boys. Lets go rustle up some grub."

They headed out the door to my car. Dean sat in the front, Sam in the back. I watched them for a minute. They both stared out the windows blankly. John never had a problem leaving them somewhere, and I think they knew that. At least this time he'd brought them to me. They would get real food and sleep in decent beds for once. As I sat down and turned the old Chevelle on, I looked over at them.

"So, what do we feel like, boys? Where do ya wanna go? My treat."

"Really Uncle Bobby? Anywhere?" Sam asked, eagerly.

I nodded and waited for an answer. Of course, they picked their favorite burger joint in town. To be fair, it was the best one in the state. So I drove and we ate and we talked. They'd been in school a little, Sam had enjoyed it. Dean had… been Dean. I enjoyed the company of having them with me. I hadn't seen them in months.

"You boys want some ice cream?" I asked.

Sam's eyes lit up immediately, Dean shrugged. There wasn't really a good place to get ice cream here, so we just went to the grocery store. I let them pick whatever they wanted. They would take almost all of it with them when John roamed back around to grab them. I grabbed a new bottle of whiskey and threw it up on the conveyer belt. The boys watched excitedly as I handed the man my money. I didn't mind. Not for these two. As I drove home, Sam dove into his box of crackers and Dean began devouring his own ice cream. They didn't get treats like this very often. More like ever. John wouldn't spend the money for this. When they'd eaten themselves into a food coma, I carried them upstairs, one at a time. Sam looked so small, so innocent. He wasn't, of course, but it was nice to imagine the life he could have had. Dean had a knife under his pillow and a .45 on the nightstand by the bed. That wasn't a surprise. John pushed most of the responsibility on him. It was his job to watch out for Sam, and he took it seriously. Once I was satisfied they were both comfortable and safe, I went back downstairs to make a phone call.

"What?" came his gruff voice on the other end.

"Werewolf my ass," was all I said. "Lunar cycle's all off, John. They might not be old enough to figure that out yet, but I am."

"Come on Bobby," he said, voice whiney.

I didn't care why he'd brought them by, really. But I sure as hell wasn't going to let him lie to me about it.

"I found it."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This demon he was hunting was a sneaky little bastard.

"And you don't think your boys deserve to be a part of that? It was their mother."

"They're too young. I'll take care of it."

"John, all these leads never take you anywhere."

"I'll see you in a few days."

The connection went dead. I rolled my eyes. Oh well. There wasn't anything else I could do about it tonight. I finished some more research and called back the hunter that had been waiting for it. Exhausted, I headed off to my own room to catch whatever little bit of sleep I could.

I woke before the sun did, as usual. Ambling downstairs, I opened the fridge to see what I could toss together for breakfast.

"Mornin Uncle Bobby," came a voice behind me.

Sam. Always the early riser.

"How long you been up, kid?" I asked him, grabbing the pitcher of orange juice.

"Only a few minutes before you. Thanks for the ice cream."

I sat down at the table and poured us some juice.

"Any time," I replied.

When we'd both drained our glasses, I got up to scramble up some eggs. Dean came down a few minutes after the bacon had started frying. The boys began shoveling the food into their mouths like starving dogs. It was probably the first home cooked meal, that hadn't come out of a box or a can, they'd had in months. Once we all finished, I collected the plates and cleaned them off. Not one scrap of food was left anywhere.

"So what do you boys wanna do today?"

"Dad said we need to work on our hand-to-hand," Dean informed me.

I rolled my eyes. John never let them be kids.

"Yeah, well. Screw that. What do YOU wanna do?"

Sam looked up timidly.

"Can we play catch?" he asked.

I smiled.

"Sure we can."

I was the one that gave Dean his first glove. I was the one that taught him to catch. So, I grabbed an old duffle bag and tossed in a few softballs and gloves and we went to the park. Dean had developed a pretty good arm, but it clearly wan't Sam's sport. The kid was all legs and no balance. So we went to the store and he picked out a soccer ball. We went back to the park and Sam kicked the ball around. Dean and I tossed the softball. A few other kids went and joined Sam, making a little soccer game out of it. We went back to my house for lunch and I'm pretty sure all the food we'd gotten the night before was gone when they finished. Then the phone calls started coming in. One man needed me to 'verify' he was a real FBI agent. So I did. Another hunter needed information on a nasty beast. The boys helped where they could, which wasn't much. They certainly couldn't read any of the books in a language besides English. Even the ones that were gave them trouble. It was just nice to have another voice in the house. The sun began to set and I poured myself a glass of whiskey. Dean eyed it nervously and Sam shifted uncomfortably. So. John was still a mean drunk. Too bad. The man COULD be a good father, if he wanted. I mean, I get it. I really do. A nasty thing came into his house and took the love of his life from him. Left him with two mouths to feed and a thirst for revenge. I'd heard a thousand other stories, all as horrible and sad as his. But that didn't give him the right to put that kind of fear into his children's eyes. The only thing kids this age should be afraid of is the 'monster' under the bed. But that's not the hand they were dealt. So, I gave them whatever childhood memories I could, because they gave me memories too. Doing these things with them replaced monsters of my own. My phone rang for the millionth time that day. Rubbing at my tired eyes, I answered it.

"I'll be there in the morning."

It must not have gone well if he was calling me already.

"Get that wolf you were after?"

"No," he said. "Dead end."

He hung up before I could. I realized two pairs of eyes were watching me intently.

"That was your dad," I said.

"Where is he?" Dean asked, looking down at his hands.

"He'll be here to get you two in the mornin'."

They were both quiet. Two nights. They'd only been by two nights, one whole day. So little time.

"He kill it?" Sam asked, almost sorrowfully.

"Yep," I lied. "Silver bullet to the heart."

I hated lying to them, but sometimes it was necessary. They needed to believe their dad was a hero, so I helped them believe it. I think Dean knew. He always had a knack for lying and picking up on liars, but he played along. I think he also knew John wasn't hunting a werewolf, but he kept that quiet too.

"Did we finish that ice cream already?" I asked, trying to distract everyone, myself included.

"Naw," Sam said, shaking his head.

I got us some bowls and spoons and divide the rest of it up between us. This is what family was supposed to be like. Not out on the road, running form one crap shoot to the next. We ate ourselves sick and then headed off to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I went and checked on the both of them again, double checking the locks on the windows. Sam had taken over the whole bed, each limb stretched to its capacity. When I went in to Dean's room, he sat up.

"Uncle Bobby," he said suddenly, making me jump.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he said, simply.

"Anytime, kid," I replied. "Day or night. You call and I'll be there."

He rolled over and I went back to my own room.

I had just finished making pancakes when they made their way down the stairs. They were quiet, both with their bags over their shoulders.

"Your daddy ain't here yet!" I said, putting the last one on a plate. "Sit yourselves down and at least have a decent breakfast."

They did as they were told. We ate quietly. As I rinsed the plates off, I heard the Impala. I wondered how long it would be before I would see them again. Then I felt little arms wrap around me.

"Thanks Uncle Bobby!" Sam said through a wide smile.

I walked them both to the door and they piled into the old car. John barely waited until they were in before he pulled out. Then one of my phones rang. Time to start the day.


End file.
